


Resonance

by Topicabo



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Cuddling & Snuggling, Fluff, M/M, Not Beta Read, Not Britpicked
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-18
Updated: 2016-10-18
Packaged: 2018-08-23 05:14:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,158
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8315254
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Topicabo/pseuds/Topicabo
Summary: "Lately though, he likes having me read to him. Doesn’t even seem to matter what it is; he says the sound of my voice quiets the noise down. I love being able to do that for him."One of the little things Greg does for Mycroft.





	

**Author's Note:**

> This fic was inspired by a line of dialogue I wrote in Behind Closed Doors that's up in the summary. I just liked the idea so much, so I ran with it.

“`It was pitiful in a way, and yet cheering—even exhilarating. He was glad that he liked the country undecorated, hard, and stripped of its finery. He had got down to the bare bones of it, and they were fine and strong and simple.` ….Hey. Myc? Still with me?”

 

The placid calm in Mycroft’s subconscious rippled in response to the voice’s shift in tone. He drew in a slow breath, frowning at the lull from that low, gravelly resonance. But the light pressure of lips against his temple was quite nice, so he couldn’t find it in himself to complain.

 

“I’m awake.” Preferring not to open his eyes, Mycroft nestled in against the warm, solid mass next to him on the bed. “What time is it?”

 

“About eight. You want to sleep for a bit?”

 

“No. It can wait. I'd want to undress first, anyway.”

 

A hand threaded through Mycroft’s hair, eliciting a flutter of pleasant tingles in the nape of his neck. He unconsciously nudged his head closer in a silent request for more. The fingertips began kneading the back of his scalp, and he hummed in appreciation.

 

“Feel like I’ve got me one of those fancy lap cats,” the voice said, a rumbling chuckle to the words.

 

Mycroft cracked open an eye, zeroing a mildly indignant glare at the man whose T-shirted shoulder he was pillowed on top of. Darkness was prevalent outside the window, but a lamp on the nightstand washed the room and the two men in a dim, off white light. The bedroom was somewhat bare in terms of decoration, but the available furniture was functional and created a homely atmosphere. The bed that they were currently occupying was actually Mycroft’s contribution, though it had taken several hard won arguments for the other man to allow the purchase. But he had quickly warmed up to his gift after seeing a significant improvement in his quality of sleep. And of course, there were the other mutual benefits that a well-constructed bed provided.  

 

“I think I take issue with your analogy,” Mycroft said, furrowing his brow.

 

That was his intent, anyway. Mycroft’s conviction dissolved away as his mouth was taken in a soft, leisurely kiss. He lifted his chin to improve the angle, a small moan catching in the back of his throat. The close proximity brought the faint scent of shampoo and body wash from an earlier shower, along with that underlying, unique signature that reminded Mycroft of cedar.

 

“How bout now?” the man asked, whispering the words against Mycroft’s lips. His smile was an amalgamation born of wholesome choirboy and the most shameless of rogues. His thumb traced along the curve of Mycroft’s ear, causing more lovely shivers to run down his back.

 

Mycroft had to concentrate to keep his voice steady. “It’s fortunate for you that I am so accommodating,” he said, as though he hadn’t already lost this battle before it had begun.

 

“I’m fortunate in a lot of ways, love,” the other replied with a playful wink. Mycroft huffed in amusement, the reaction so much more natural than he ever managed in a public setting. He caught hold the person’s wrist and pressed a kiss to his palm.

 

“As am I, Gregory,” he said, utterly content in his surrender.

 

The cheek in Greg’s expression eased into fondness as he leaned in and gently bumped their noses together. Another of his simple, if not silly displays of affection. A tiny part of Mycroft scoffed in the face of such blatant sentimentality.

 

The rest of him felt as though his heart might burst for how profoundly it affected him.

 

But therein lie the beauty of being with Greg Lestrade. It was defeat without losing anything, vulnerability without danger. The most confounding and wondrous of constant contradictions, and Mycroft could no longer imagine his life without them.

 

Greg pulled back and picked up the PC tablet he’d set on the mattress. “Want me to keep going?”

 

“You’re not tired of reading yet?”

 

“Nah,” Greg said, flashing a lopsided grin as he scrolled through a wall of text. “I’m enjoying it. Though I can’t say I’m doing the story any favors with the way I sound.”

 

“I'd have to disagree. Your voice is lovely. If I were allowed, I would listen to you for hours.”

 

Greg blinked, glancing at Mycroft with a sheepish expression. “I think you’re a bit biased.”

 

“Perhaps. But my point still stands,” Mycroft said pragmatically. He sighed, closing his eyes as he tapped two fingers against his temple. “I realize that I’m incompetent at managing my stress levels. It’s my own fault for overworking myself. But mental stillness is not something that comes easily to me.”

 

“But this helps, yeah?” asked Greg, concern coloring the question.

 

Mycroft smiled, reopening his eyes to give Greg a reassuring look. “Immeasurably. I’ve had limited success with other methods. Music, intoxication, exercising to exhaustion. But this-” He reached out, skimming his fingers along the front of Greg’s throat. “My thoughts settle when I focus on your voice. I don’t know if I can properly convey what a relief that is, or how grateful I am to you for it.”

 

The quiet tenderness that spread across Greg’s face was quite possibly one of the most beautiful things that Mycroft had ever seen. He wanted to embed the image of it firmly inside his mind, safely locked away where it might always remain as vivid in his memory as it was right at that instant.

 

Greg moved in close again and touched his lips to Mycroft’s forehead. “Then we’ll keep doing this,” he said, his breath warm as he brushed kisses against Mycroft’s eyelids, the bridge of his nose, his chin. “Anytime you want, Myc. All you have to do is ask.” Greg’s mouth lit upon a particular spot just below the earlobe and Mycroft gasped, instinctively tilting his head back.

 

“Oh, very nice,” Greg murmured, the texture in his voice roughening into a growl. Mycroft curled an arm around Greg’s side and was gratified to feel a tremor spike through the other man’s body.

 

Greg straddled Mycroft's hips and leaned back onto his knees. He slid his palms up along the surface of Mycroft’s waistcoat before beginning to unfasten the buttons one by one.

 

“I take it you’re done reading, then?” Mycroft asked coyly, lifting himself up so that the opened garment could be pushed off his shoulders and down his arms.

 

Greg paused in his efforts, mischief in his smirk.

 

“Think you said something before about getting undressed. Besides, got all sorts of ways to use my voice besides reading. Might be fun to try a few on you.”

 

And here Mycroft didn’t think it was possible to adore Greg even more than he already did. With a shudder of anticipation, he sank back onto the bed and met Greg’s eyes, his mind electrified at the possibilities.

 

“Well, if that’s the case, do continue.”

**Author's Note:**

> The story being read at the start is "The Wind in the Willows". I initially intended it to be featured more, but I didn't end up needed it that much. I read about four chapters into the story for this fic though. It's a nice read; I recommend checking it out.


End file.
